


Of Coffee and Oatmeal

by CALira



Series: Proper Send Off [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Coffee, Hidden pain, M/M, Morning, Morning After, Muffins, Teasing, domesticality, huggy kissing, oatmeal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 20:36:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4579167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CALira/pseuds/CALira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morning after "Storing Up". </p><p>Domesticity, doting, silliness, cuteness, an accidental almost suffocation and a Daryl observation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Coffee and Oatmeal

Hot soapy water slipped down the sculpted topography of Aaron's muscular body. He was alone in the shower and that magnified the pinging ricochets of pressurized water striking glass walls to a level that tormented more than just his stress sensitized hearing. 

His boyfriend, Eric, did offer in licentious geniality to join him. Without much debate they decided as a couple against the idea. Not that either of them would not welcome the others presence, but it would defeat the purpose of bathing. They would just wind up getting themselves all dirty again in so many different and interesting ways. 

Eric mused to himself, ' _We spent most of the wee hours joined at the hip_ ,' his smile corkscrewed naughtily, ' _as it were._ ' Nodding to himself he continued,

' _It's probably best for both of us, and maybe the neighbors - if I cared, to give it a rest for now._ ' With a small sigh he reasoned, 

' _Besides, he'd get all upset that I got the cast wet and he doesn't need the stress right now.'_

Eric stood in the kitchen wearing the June Cleaver-est of auras. Neither his rumpled inside-out clothing nor his giant knot of ravaged hair were enough to detract from the idyllic domesticity of his demeanor. 

He was teetering on one crutch in front of the stove stirring a pot of oatmeal like a mad man. ' _If I can't go with him, the least I can do is send him off carefree, sated and well fed.'_

That's what you did for your man when he shipped out to war...without you. 

"Good thing I'm not still angry with him for ditching me here, otherwise I'd have to work some applesauce into this pot. Ha!” he muttered under his breath to the blebbing and popping breakfast staple. Aaron loathed applesauce for deeply painful reasons and Eric immediately felt horrible for thinking such catty thoughts. He chastised himself mentally. 

Lost in the penance of his mental self flagellation, the slender redhead didn't notice Aaron coming up behind him until he felt strong arms circle his waist and cushioned lips push into the nape of his neck.

“Yiy!” Eric started, sending oatmeal, spoon and crutch in all directions. 

"What was that?" Aaron laughed as he steadied Eric against the counter. Lightly pinning the redhead by the chest with one sun soaked hand, he used the other to retrieve his uncharacteristically jumpy boyfriend's crutch from the floor.

“I didn't hear you sneak up on me, Captain Ninja.” Accepting the wayward crutch, Eric flared his giant brown eyes at his loving partner before smiling and gently shaking his head. He grabbed a kitchen towel and quickly wiped away flecks of stray oatmeal from the stove, counter, wall... shirt... arms. He huffed in amusement as he worked,

“I swear I'm going to put a bell on you.”

“Mmm. You sure rang my bell last night.” The shearling brunette resumed hugging his romantically inclined carnal taskmaster tightly to his brawny chest. He loudly kissed the pale delicate skin beneath Eric's ear.

“Ugh.” Eric groaned in exaggerated disgust. He turned his head back over his shoulder toward Aaron as far as his neck allowed. Rolling his eyes sideways at his partner, he looked at him with nausea. “Really? You kiss me with that mouth? With that pathetic excuse for innuendo still dribbling from those lips like rabid foam?”

“Sorry,” Aaron offered before resting his freshly shaved chin on Eric's shoulder. He kissed Eric mostly on the lips - and continued,

“I guess not all the blood has made it back to my brain yet.”

“You're welcome,” Eric answered with a chivalrous bow of his head.

Aaron chuckled softly and further tightened his wrestling hold of a hug around Eric's chest unintentionally impinging on the slender man's ribcage. The strong natured outdoorsman purred in a deep rumble that was more mountain lion than man. Contentedly, he nuzzled his cheek against Eric's still unshaven and prickly copper spiked jaw.

A slightly swaying Eric leaned back against Aaron’s hard chest and sighed fondly, if shallowly. He lay his refreshingly oatmeal-free hands lightly over his partner's muscular arms and stroked the smooth fresh plaid flannel over the steam warmed skin. 

“Honey?” Eric's voice was strained as he energetically patted the muscled expanse of forearms across his body. 

Aaron hummed a flesh muffled response, “Yes, my ginger minx?”

“Aaron,” Eric rasped as his distracted boyfriend kissed and nibbled at his ear. 

“Aaron! Dammit! Aaron!” he squeaked, frantically slapping at the bulky arms binding his chest like so much strapping tape. 

Grabbing the bulging forearms with pale desperate fingers, he levered the arm-shaped vice from his ribs and inhaled loudly. Regaining the ability to expand his lungs normally, Eric turned around and put a hand on Aaron’s shoulder. Half leaning forward from the waist, the lanky redhead laughed wildly between heaving breaths of air. It was the hysterics that kept him from noticing that Aaron hung his head in shame and remorse.

“I'm sorry, Baby. So sorry.” Aaron repeated softly in whispering regret.

Eric frowned in concern and pulled Aaron closer to him by the shirt front, almost including a nipple in his haste to hold him. He held the man tightly to his chest and anxiously rubbed the broad back and shoulders. 

His partner's usually charismatic face buried sadly in his pale neck, Eric lay his cheek on his man's pulsing temple. He craddled the back of Aaron's head in his hand and stroked the soft shorn curls. Consoling his love as he exhaled desperately, 

“Shh, Baby, no. It's OK."

Rocking his solidly built man softly, Eric continued in a soothing voice,

"It's just us. You don't have to be perfect.”

He pulled back and stared sideways into his man's crestfallen face. Smiling under amber bedroom eyes, he added,

"It's alright to do dumb things. No damage done.” 

He gently righted Aaron's head and stared into those ethereal eyes made all the more beautiful by the light catching on quietly brimming tears. He draped his thin arms loosely around his boyfriend's flushed neck. Playfully working his long pale fingers through the short springy curls of Aaron’s brunette head, Eric gently touched their foreheads together.

“I get carried away when I hold you, too. We're both just really hot guys.”

Aaron smiled as he carefully feather-fell his hands every so lightly on Eric's waist. He closed his eyes and shared with his beloved the intimate exchange of manly forehead oil and bioelectrical energy. The tingly scent of pheromones aromatized the air between them. 

Eric lingered in the moment, smiling lovingly. Eventually, he opened his eyes and sighed. He pulled back regretfully from the brawny brunette and gently anointed his guy's warmed forehead with a soft kiss.

Looking into Aaron's mystical grey blue eyes one more time, the redhead sighed and turned back to the stove. He spooned a large dollop of oatmeal into a cereal bowl and handed it to Aaron, “You know it was _only_ the cast that kept me out of the shower with you.”

"Figured as much," the healthy brunette shrugged in agreement and took the bowl he was offered with a gentle smile. He held out his other weather seasoned hand and waited for the second bowl. Eric curled his lips in a silent smile-like gesture and gave his head a slow gentle shake.

“Not eating?” Aaron focused his piercing mist blue eyes on his boyfriend's oddly serene face. 

“Not hungry.” It was a feasible notion coming from a man built like a greyhound.

Aaron wasn't buying it though. He dropped his wide shoulders and frowned in concern,

“You have to eat.” 

“Uhm, already did?” Eric tilted his head in a cutesy preschool bluff.

“Oh yeah, I completely believe _that_.”

“It's no big. I have my coffee.” Eric retrieved a sturdy diner-style mug from the tiled kitchen island. He toasted Aaron with the steaming contents. 

“That's not food.” He was steadfast in his ardent concern. 

“Jeez. Later, okay? I'll eat after you've left for work.” Eric juggled crutch, cast and coffee on his way to the kitchen table. He managed to take a step and a half before Aaron removed the scorching liquid element from the act.

Eric smiled gratefully and plopped himself down at the kitchen table. He carefully leaned his crutch alongside its mate against the chair next to him. Indicating the table with a nod of his head, he took his mug back from Aaron, 

“Sit. Eat.” Getting a mildly disapproving look in response he sighed and continued, 

“Right now I just want to sit here and watch you eat.”

Aaron gave up out of hunger and sat down at a meticulously arranged and overly formal place setting where a vapor swirling mug of coffee awaited him. Barely taking the time to settle himself, he dove into his oatmeal like a Dickensian waif. Not once looking up from the bowl, he grunted as his spoon made the round trip to his mouth. 

“Mmph. It's good. Thanks, Hon.” he sputtered appreciatively between spoon loads. He was genuinely sincere in his appreciation. So much so that he forgot to pause between bites. Covering his mouth with a freshly pressed cloth napkin, he coughed from mildly choking on the tasty bolus of sticky goo as it gucked its way down the inner walls of his throat. 

He reached for the coffee mug and took a cautious sip. Successfully avoiding both suffocation and a third degree scalding, he took a few swigs and cleared his esophagus of any clinging debris. With a fully refurbished throat, Aaron smiled sheepishly at Eric and returned to shoveling in his breakfast.

This time, however, he took the obligatory breath between bites and stretched his neck to facilitate swallowing, just in case. On one return from the ceiling, his gaze fell across Eric's expression. Wide brown eyes stared at Aaron in shining awe and wonder. He grinned crookedly at the bloodless feeding frenzy before him. Aaron's spoon froze in place, hovering just above the breakfast bowl. 

“What? I'm hungry.” He gestured with spoon in hand,

“For some odd reason, I'm a little light headed this morning.”

Eric curled his lips and absorbed some of the vapor from his coffee. His molten chocolate eyes flitted from Aaron, to the table and back again. Indicating the half devastated contents of the cereal bowl with a tick of his head, he cajoled,

“Eat. While it's still warm.” 

Aaron looked down at his breakfast with a shrug. He scooped a conservative amount of oatmeal onto his spoon and lifted it to his waiting mouth. Yet, before the food actually made it inside his mouth, his hand stalled in place again. Eric was still staring at him, strangely fascinated with the outdoorsman's motor skills. Hand, spoon and oatmeal still suspended in time and space, he cocked an eyebrow,

“You're _literally_ going to sit there and watch me eat?” 

“I like the view.” Aaron glimpsed the tiniest dance of copper eyebrows and a closed lip smirk before the pale face disappeared behind Eric's coffee mug.

Chuckling with pride, the brawny humanitarian struck a self important pose, 

“Why, thank you, kind sir.” 

He shook his head gently before returning to his meal, "Crazy Man." 

Intently refocused on his breakfast, Aaron's mind was deeply preoccupied with the coordination of his breathing with his chewing. However, he did manage to reassign a brain cell or two as he purposefully laid his free hand palm up on the table near Eric's undisturbed place setting.

Eric inhaled sharply and cooed as he stacked his palm on Aaron’s. He lovingly wrapped his lean fingers around his partner's sun toasted hand. They sat quietly holding hands in the subtly pinkish light of autumn tinted morning that bathed the room. 

They stayed like that through a noticeable shift in the sun-cast shadows before Eric leaned forward and gently squeezed Aaron’s hand. Tapping the table lightly with their bundled digits, Eric looked into Aaron's eyes with a serious set to his jaw and broke the warm silence, 

"Come back to me...”, he stated gently. His eyes grew hard,

“... or I'll burn this place to the ground as your funeral pyre.” 

Aaron gagged and spit up flecks of saliva covered oats. Experiencing another, yet less severe, fit of oatmeal related coughing, he wiped his mouth with the still crisp napkin.

“Jeez, Eric. Don't spring that on a guy when he's eating.”

“Just saying, Bright Eyes.” Eric leaned back with a sunny grin and took a sip of his coffee. 

Their hands made their way back to each other and lay entwined once again on the table. Aaron studied Eric's kind and stately face with loving warmth and washed the last of his breakfast down with another swig of coffee.

Two understated knocks sounded at the garage door. “Ah. Your prom date's here.”

They heard Daryl let himself in through the unlocked and always welcoming side door. Clearing Aaron's empty bowl, Eric stood up awkwardly and peered through the window at the sky. 

"Come on, hurry up. You're losing light."

Aaron stood quickly and lightly pushed Eric back into his seat. 

“Relax, there's plenty of light left this morning.”

The sound of Daryl's boots scuffing across the cement floor announced his entry into the garage. 

Aaron took the bowl from his appreciatively smiling boyfriend and carried it to the sink. The background filled with Daryl's early warning sounds of clanking metal and dragging objects. He learned the hard way not to enter the affectionate couple's home without announcing himself first... and loudly.

Draining his mug in one large gulp, Aaron quickly washed it and the bowl out in the sink. The strapping brunette even diligently remembered to invert the items on the counter rack to air dry. 

“Thank you, Cubby.” Eric groaned softly as he reached for his crutches with a happy smile.

His gaze fixed unwavering on Aaron’s face, Eric yelled toward the garage door, 

“Daryl! Coffee? Oatmeal?” 

Their motorcycle loving, leather and jean clad friend ambled his scruffy self into the kitchen,

“Naw. A'ready eht. Wanna git while thers still good light.”

“See?” Eric flashed his best 'I told you, smarty pants' smile at Aaron and stuck his tongue out at him in punctuation and refined maturity. 

Turning to Daryl, he cheerfully smirked, “I don't know that I believe you D. I mean, you never make a fuss.”

Lifting himself onto his crutches, he oofed and continued, 

“Just in case I wouldn't believe your answer, I made muffins.” He bopped his head and grinned sweetly. 

“Oatmeal, of course. Yours are on the counter.”

“Uhm, Darling?” Aaron queried tentatively.

“Check your pack.” 

Aaron smiled widely and gathered the sturdy bag that Eric had packed and set on a kitchen chair waiting for him. Casually opening the pack, he took pre-trip inventory in barely contained excitement and gave locating the muffins top priority. He really liked oatmeal…and loved Eric's muffins.

Daryl slouched over to the counter like a cat, limbs loose but ready. Not a Tupperware kind of guy, he gratefully spotted the thoughtfully bandanna-wrapped package on the smooth clean tile and practically leapt on it. 

He untied it while displaying that almost smile of his and thanked Eric with an endearing grunt. Tearing into one of the still warm muffins, Daryl coated himself in crumbs. Eric placed a mug of coffee beside the elbow of the bowman's dubiously clean bare arm. 

Daryl absently took a slurp from the mug before taking another crumbling bite. He chewed distractedly as his striking blue eyes watched Aaron fiddling with his pack. 

“Why ya standin' like tha?,” he asked in a muffin muffled voice.

Aaron blushed and looked back at Daryl with wide innocent eyes, 

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” He flicked his eyes at Eric in a quick accusatory glance.

Daryl dropped yet more muffin debris onto his shirt and, with a slightly lifted brow, gestured at Eric with a tilt of his chin. Silently noting the redhead's disheveled state, Daryl scoffed quietly,“You?” 

“What?” Eric responded. He toyed with a loose curl on Aaron’s temple and sighed,

“I'm going to miss him.” 

“Looks like ya ahready hit'im outta the park.”

Eric chuffed loudly and rolled his eyes, “Relax. He can still walk, run, shoot, slice things up and whatever else.” He waved at the air between them with a slender hand.

Daryl shrugged a shoulder and decimated another muffin. Eric subtly caught Aaron’s eye and silently mouthed in parental affection, "So cute." 

He glanced back at Daryl in concern over the longevity of his cache of baked goods as well as his ability to breath, “Pace yourself, man. I'm not about to perform CPR this early in the morning.”

Daryl smirked and pounded back another hit of coffee. It was quite the bit of progress that the country bred maverick didn't immediately cringe at the thought of a man's lips on his face.

“There won't be any more muffins until you get back here safe and sound.” 

Eric relented, 

“But, if you _were_ to run out, maybe somebody would share.” The redhead tilted his head at Aaron.

Aaron looked up from his pack and gave them both a dead pan look. “Don't count on it.”

Daryl swiped his wispy facial hair with a steady hand and snorted a knowing breath, “Yeh.”

The group made their way to the front porch where their vehicles were waiting on the driveway. Eric put a hand on Daryl's shoulder, briefly noting that the man also no longer jumped at being touched with a platonic hand. Even one from such a gorgeous specimen of gay manliness as he. Eric set his jaw and laid down orders,

“Be safe. Watch each others back. And for the love of everything not decaying please come back intact.” Giving Daryl's shoulder a light tap with a pale index finger, he added with a lopsided smile,

“Oh and bring curly top back with you, if you get the chance.” 

“Shut up, Punk.” Aaron snarked gently. His magical eyes gleamed as he pulled Eric close.

The handsome brunette planted a light peck on his alabaster beau's smiling lips. The kiss lingered and deepened, losing enough chaste restraint that Daryl was suddenly studying the wildly fascinating ceiling beams. 

Aaron broke away and breathed sadly. Cradling Eric's jaw, he rubbed his thumb across his boyfriend's reddened lips. The hardy brunette tore himself away and slung his backpack over one shoulder. Balancing on his crutches, Eric stayed at the top of the porch stairs and watched the pair of recruiters load up. 

With a toothy bravely forced smile, he called out, “Oh. Daryl - no more possums, please, unless you tell me how to cook the thing.”

“Yes'm, Ma.”

“...and don't you ever forget that, Biker Bub.” Attaching a laughy voice to his big fake smile, Eric nodded at them. He studied them quietly as they stashed away their personal gear.

“Locked and loaded, ready to go, huh?” he procrastinated inanely.

Over a shuddering sigh he finally tried to add,

"Good b...". He couldn't finish saying it. He would regret not doing it if anything happened to either of them, but right now the words were too painful; too final. He shined an overly enthusiastic smile at them,

"See you later, boys"

Eric watched them drive away before slowly closing the door. Joylessly, he returned to the kitchen and sadly recovered his mug from the table. He stared transfixed and silent at the black swirling liquid as he poured the full volume of the mug, minus two sips, down the drain. The unfocused redhead washed the mug mechanically before drying it and his hands with a small towel printed brightly and subversively with roosters and corn cobs.

Standing with his closed hands on the counter, he idly stared at the shimmering world outside the kitchen windows. Suddenly, he flinched and clutched at his stomach. Quickly hobbling to the bathroom, he vomited.

Recovered from the spell of nausea, he plopped his weary body onto the sofa. Blank faced and empty, he set his watch to mark the time. He sighed heavily and began yet another of the longest days of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> This is more like the cutesy goofy stuff I usually perpetrate. Maybe it still has something to say, though.
> 
> If not...eh, c'est le life.


End file.
